Atheneum
by Lionus
Summary: He slinks into her hoard, tracking sodden snowflakes across the carpets and inclines himself to never allow her to finish a sentence.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fairy Tail.

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He's gone soft, if the smiling librarian nodding her head in greeting to him is any indication.

The intricate bun and worn sweater with the hummingbird broach keep their distance, but wittingly peeks over her black frame glasses when he trumps through the double doors. Those accursed sea green eyes are bright and sharp as a tack in an agonizing, age-defying boast.

More than a few residents of the room jump at the overbearing, _unintentional_, shadow he casts. The worst part is, those idiots catch sight of him and then let a _damn sigh of relief_ out once it's confirmed to be him. There's no way it's just the reputation of being a Fairy Tail mage, if that were the case they'd still be a little nervous he'd topple every shelf in a domino effect and boisterously curse a mean streak about pansy libraries.

Gajeel used to revel in the solidarity provided by fear. He had a reputation.

But so did Fairy Tail, all encompassing and unnerving as it was, and it had a fierce way of oozing into every facet of your life. Warranted or wanted, they're dead set on scrambling all of his good work.

This is what leaves him with an awkward, not-quite-acquaintance with the mousy elder. Wordlessly, the old bat, always so _irritatingly_ sly, points him up the grand staircase that would take him to the archives. It was an entire wing for editions on history and language.

Not that she really _needs_ to direct him, as wasn't his first tour. Blame was courtesy of the guild and their lack of tact and excessive need to order him around like one of her accessories. As if he weren't busy.

Gajeel had had a table full of metals to separate and eat when that demon decided to bark her orders at him from across the hall. The street rats from Phantom at least understood the basic rule of not interrupting him when he was eating. Never Fairy Tail, never ever that damnable guild to which he'd attached himself.

In Magnolia, there's a rudimentary understanding that the library is funded and dealt with great care just for her. It's one of the perks of being one of the less destructive heroes and unofficial charge of Makarov Dreyar. This thought circles his mind as the muffled footsteps of his heavy gait fall on the plush red carpet. And when his rough hands push open the rich oak doors to a room that seems to be hers, he figures there's really no one more deserving.

There's three levels in the circular room, with at least seven rows of books on each floor.

It takes little effort to catch her scent over binding glue and dead trees and proud ink from rhythmic scratches of her pen, but he has absolutely no idea where she is. He hates this part, because it means he's going to have to call out to her and while he's not the most reverent for laws and rules, speaking in a library always struck him as _grave, unforgivable crime._

Gajeel cleared his voice, as if testing the volume before he dared speak, because inside voices were never a thing in Phantom Lord and Metalicana always liked to remind him of what a thickheaded brat he had been where volume control was concerned. "Levy?"

"Yeah?"

He scrunched his eyes and turned slowly, trying to pick out the wild blue tangles or even the plastic red frames. He was obviously way off the map on this one because he catches her soft laugh descending somewhere along the opposite level he was searching.

"Up here." Levy raises from her seat enough to see over the table stacked with books and the polished railing on the second level.

"Ah." Gajeel nods and turns from her, taking the time to browse and attempt to comprehend the place. He tries and fails, whistling lowly after several beats, "So this is your hoard?" He looks back and smirks up at her.

That same low laugh reaches the perfect volume for the hallowed room, as her gaze wanders around as if she isn't familiar with every nook and cranny. He takes delight in the ammunition the lovestruck countenance gives him for future jeering, she makes it too easy for him sometimes.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Levy places her attention back on him, standing from her table and walking around it to lean over the rail. "So what brings you to the bookworm's lair? Going to surprise me with a request?"

Her eyes squint with amusement and she thoughtfully taps her chin, "A tome on metals of the world to expand the mind and palate? Or, wait, the ever-classic tale of the knight in shining armor versus the dreaded dragon?" Levy scrunches her nose up and her eyes shine with the mirth of her own imagination at the image of a knight completely bare of his armor cowering before the studded beast lazily picking his teeth.

"_Har har har_. Those damn lightweights ain't nothin' but snacks to a real dragon, shrimp…Besides, knowledge theorized by man kinda pales in comparison to what a dragon can teach ya." Finally, without prying eyes and feline intuition, Gajeel lets himself enjoy her widening smile. "Naw, Mira sent me over here to drag your scrawny butt back to the guild for dinner."

She chooses not to comment on his moment of profound philosophy, cherishing it for herself and reveling, rooting, in the fact that this side of his personality is for her, because she's the sole one to prompt the change of demeanor in the first place. "What's on the menu tonight- and please, please, _please _don't answer with _'Oi shorty, same as usual. Half a pint of needles, cup'a bolts and side of rusted bike frame.'"_

Levy's purposely crude imitation of his joke has him chuckling, she's in his favorite mood. "Clever one, you are, Lev. Mira went with plain ol' homemade soup, side of bread, and a cup of hot tea for ya."

She dramatically groans and hangs her head, "That sounds so good. Give me a minute to clean up here."

"Hurry up, it started snowing again when I got here and I don't feel like gettin' caught in the next blizzard."

Levy hums noncommittally and packs away a few language books she plans on looking over before bed. Preferably under the quilt that Lucy made her with a mug of hot chocolate sitting on the stack of books at her bedside table. She tries to recall the parts of the shelves she'd left bare of tomes. It was troublesome, this room was mostly used by her, but the filing system had seen better days. It was separated by genre and that was pretty much it, she was still sketching out an outline for getting things back on track with _her_ kind of order. Lucy enjoyed ribbing her about controlled chaos lifestyles because her books were _everywhere_, but they were always alphabetized.

Gajeel watched her, and though he'd never admit it, he did so patiently. Honestly, he was just waiting for the opportune moment to say, "Done yet?"

"Yep."

After tugging scarlet boots back onto stockinged feet, Levy took one last look around the floor she had worked on, sweeping her glance over the shelves she'd climbed and the desk, just to check for the fourth or fifth time that she had left everything to satisfaction and that nothing was out of place. She pointedly ignored Gajeel's indignant puff; she was aware of her own idiosyncrasies and he was all show in his restlessness anyways.

The solid script mage balanced the strap of her bag over a jacket sleeve she was shoving her arm into with deft practice. Gajeel waited in the same spot, hands shoved into his pockets as she pulled her other arm through the jacket and situated the red strap across her chest.

"Leather, huh?" Three metal studs raised in that tell-tale way, reserved only for her and only when he was going to relentlessly bait her about his good taste rubbing off on her. "Nice."

She snorted, "_Oh please_, it was on sale and lined with flannel. I needed something cheap and efficient enough to get the job done, and this was the best they had to offer on the rack that wasn't a complete eyesore." Levy holds one side of the jacket open to show him the comically bright red plaid hidden inside. _Subtle_.

"And the, ah, old outfit?"

Sometimes she really hated his studded excuse for eyebrows and dumb eyes that missed _absolutely nothing_. Although, she admits maybe this one's more of a valid question. She'd shucked the orange dress with the halter top bow once the weather grew too cold and dug her boots, black tights, long sleeves, and old orange dress out of the depths of her wardrobe.

"Haven't gotten around to buying new winter clothes, I've been holed up here for most days working with some languages and runes for a few experiments with my solid script. And, y'know, the whole 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' thing." Levy steps up to him as she's saying this, finishing her trek across the library, and slides her arms around his waist.

"Guess you can mark one thing off the list then."

The sight of him stepping away from her to pull out the massive scarf from _who knows where _completely boggles her. It's endearing in the awkward way he tosses it over her ponytail and loops the thick wool around her neck once. The scarf is easily as long as he is tall, leaving the ends dangling past the hem of her dress.

"A-are you sure this isn't a baby blanket you mistook for a scarf?" The joke is a thin attempt to draw his attention from her growing blush by plucking and holding up an end of the scarf. Levy laments the easy way he catches on and raises one of those cool, shining, gleaming with cat-caught-the-canary pride, metal brows.

"Gihihi, nah. It's definitely a scarf, one size fits all. Except stunted bookworms that don't know how to say thank you," Gajeel punctuates the point with a sharp flick to her forehead.

Levy rubs at the spot and pouts up at him, "Ah, of course. How could I ever forget with you reminding me every chance you get?" She quirks her head at him and lets a corner of her mouth lift up genuinely, "Thanks."

"Part of my charms, _shrimp_. You're welcome." He mirrors the lopsided smile, causing the piercings below his lip to catch the light with the movement and the reigned in butterflies to slip through the cage doors in her stomach.

"And I'm expected to believe you had the foresight to buy me a scarf that actually isn't actually anything short of gaudy and this soft?" It's one of the few chances she's going to get to tease him, to not be completely flustered into embarrassing submission at his antics. She's not going to hesitate to exploit the fact that Gajeel Redfox can't pick out anything but tattered cloaks and quality scrap metal, an effort she and Pantherlily tag-team tease him about frequently.

"Lily might've helped too." Gajeel glances off to the side and scratches the back of his wild mane, offering her a perfect view of a rosy tint against his impossibly, forever tan skin.

"I'll have to remember to buy kiwis whenever I go to the store, or maybe I can try making a few with Solid Script." The pleased tone oozes into the sentiment and she welcomes the retaliation he'll dish out later once they have full bellies and she's nearly passed out leaning against his side in the guild hall.

"You're gonna poison my cat." He feigns being horrified at her underlying villainous streak to move back to her so she can wrap her arms around him again. Gajeel's torso was stiff and she'd jostled more than one or two of the more tender areas, but it was worth it and he was a pushover without any hope after being gone nearly three weeks.

"How was the mission?" Levy takes the excuse for eye contact to lightly dig her chin into his chest, it was a silent understanding that it was one of her ways to ensure he was back, he was actually here, and she didn't need to stitch back a million and one pieces of dragon slayer.

The iron dragon slayer shrugs his shoulders and cheekily smirks, "Eh, few more bruises and scrapes. Lil's got a bit of singed tail too. No big deal, though."

"Sooo, 'few bruises and scrapes' reads as synonymous with 'My entire torso is wrapped in gauze and my rare mood is side-effect of blood loss. Lily's also missing a good chunk of cat hair and nursing burns', right?"

"Now, how come when Lily spouts nerd words like that, I don't find it near as entertainin'?"

Levy cranes her neck back and closely studies Gajeel's leer, not sure if she's really looking for anything in particular before she grips the back of his jacket with her small hands. "'M glad you're back."

Still leaving his hands in his pockets, because he know it irks her that he's so unnervingly choosy with shows of affection, Gajeel leans down and touches his forehead to hers. The worn fabric of the gunmetal shaded bandana he wears scratches comfortingly against her forehead, it's a well-practiced action and one she always misses the most. A pseudo response to Levy jabbing her chin into his sternum.

"Tch, can't say my incentives for gettin' back were too shabby, _bookworm_."

He's tired, she can tell that now that they're face-to-face, but he's always going to drag up any and all energy left to tease her. Which is exactly what he does when she thinks he's going to kiss her, but nudges her Gale-Force reading glasses with his nose to punctuate 'bookworm'. Levy scoffs and pulls back from his face to move the glasses to rest on the top of her head.

"You're so finicky, I can't believe I-," Gajeel's still smirking and Levy vaguely hears that weird laugh of his before he proudly cuts her off to run his mouth over hers.

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**A/N:** _Scarves_, man.

This sort of happens on an undetermined time frame? I picture them older and (spoiler alert) they're married mates.

Heads up that there will be more written for these two than the others, it's just easier to pin down what their reactions and characteristics might be in different situations. It might be awhile before anything something else gets posted, my next story's a multi-chap that I'm determined to get finished before I start uploading to make sure I get it done and don't leave anyone hanging for updates.


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